“I know how calm the waters are, but just look at the sky. A storm’s a’ comin’ I tell you!” Warned the old ‘Salt’.
Ignoring his advice, his crew boarded the small fishing vessel and headed out.
Well, the rumors were right, the fish were plentiful, probably the most cod in quite some time.
Heading back to shore, the winds began to pick up. The tides were rough, and the tiny vessel swooped from one side to the other, until the boat capsized.
“Hate being right” he said, as he and five other fishermen carried the casket to the church.
Many of my mom’s family were mariners who fished off the coasts of Newfoundland and Nova Scotia. We lost so many, mostly through poor decisions and rough waters. This little story is my tribute to the men who lost their lives at sea; and my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers
When the Douglas’ bought their first home, they were ecstatic. A beautiful Cape Cod with a spectacular view, in a nice neighbourhood.
Despite the overall appearance of the home, the basement was a complete letdown. The previous owner covered the bare cement walls with an ugly green paint. Cynthia Douglas demanded Albert do something quick.
That evening, Albert covered the walls with Styrofoam insulation, and painted everything a beautiful shade of beige.
The next morning, the Douglas’ were in shock. Not only did the house reek of toxic fumes, but the basement walls were once again….the shitty green colour.
This little lesson in chemistry and colour choices is brought to you by Rochelle Wisoff- Fields’ Friday Fictioneers photo prompt of the week. check on the little froggy for more stories
While eating lunch at a friends house, Tommy was interrupted by the owner of the house. Kenneth, an old man who lived alone with his son, hollered loudly. “Don’t break that turkey neck, it looks like Elvis!”
Tommy was astonished. Kenneth took the bone, washed it, and placed it in a display cabinet he built behind the table.
Kenneth’s son Mike explained to Tommy that since his mom died, his father seemed to lose it, and began collecting bones that look like things.
Kenneth cut in. “My collection won’t be complete until I find one resembling Martha, my dead wife.”
This story of weird collections, and a man’s way of dealing with loss, is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.
Edgar was a man on a mission. He was always in some sort of rush.
Edgar loved electronics, and anything futuristic. “No time for the old stuff” he would say; his home being an electronic marvel.
Always in a hurry, this morning he was involved in a car accident. His car hit something on Highway 660 and his life was changed forever.
The last thing he remembered was the image of a moose on his dash cam.
These days, Edgar prefers the simple things in life, such as reading by the light of an oil lamp, and napping…lots of napping.
In Newfoundland, hundreds of people lose their lives in moose accidents each year. Some, like Edgar are fortunate enough to escape alive, with some severe challenges. This is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers.
As he looked out the window, he was reminded of the warm Autumn days, with rainbow leaves and calm waters. He remembered the ponds mirroring the skies and the trees, showing off their robust fall colors, and how the cool breeze rustled the leaves as they fell to the ground.
But those were dreams. Today is much different; the calm waters in front of his window are not the ponds of his dreams, rather puddles left by Hurricane Matthew, as the waters washed out his town. Miraculously, he was still able to find beauty among the ruins.
“Don’t go out tonight, the forecast is calling for freezing rain!” his mother warned. Jacob had a new girlfriend who didn’t like to be kept waiting, so he ignored his mother’s warnings.
Jacob learned a hard lesson that night. The temperatures dropped quickly that December night, and the light rain soon began to freeze. In minutes his windshield was covered with the stuff, and even worse, so was the road.
Steering on the icy road wasn’t as easy as he thought, as his car began to slide towards the ditch. Jacob learned a valuable lesson that night, off the roadside.
This lesson in driving in the ever changing temperatures of Newfoundland and Labrador is my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers. Pay heed to warnings, and click on the little froggy for more stories related to this week’s photo prompt.